


Stitches that Wound

by PhantasmaDormi



Series: Robin is not okay (and that's alright) [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Descriptions of wounds, Gen, Hints at Trauma, Mild Gore, POV Second Person, Robin angst, Robin still isn't having a good time, Trauma, and its still because their mind got thrown in a shredder, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantasmaDormi/pseuds/PhantasmaDormi
Summary: You hate being healed by magic.You aren't sure why.
Series: Robin is not okay (and that's alright) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572874
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Stitches that Wound

There was no question that the wondrous magic of staves was one of the most useful and demanded skills around. That didn’t make you hate their healing less.

It was hard to explain, but it made your skin feel foreign and fake. Maybe you were just used to roughing it, to scraping by and dodging death by the skin of your teeth. Some faint memories of before, of a time that will never be yours again, give you a foggy idea of hurried stitches, rough banadaging, and toughing it out.

Magical healing, though? It takes the pain and leaves nothing but a strip of scarred skin. Perhaps is was the feeling of your skin closing up on itself, or the sound of it crawling back together. Or was it the phantom pain it left behind, the feeling that your flesh had been torn into where only a smooth, pale scar remained?

Terrible, clean and simple.

Because of your aversion to magical healing you got better at hiding wounds. Cuts and scrapes didn’t need a staff, they needed a quick swipe of disinfectant and some gauze. Bruises needed nothing other than rest. Unless you were dying, you didn’t want to have a staff come about you.

That, of course, didn’t stop the well meaning from being concerned when they caught you in combat.

Chrom, who you most often fought along, kept an annoyingly close, but endearingly, close eye on you.

You’d take a cut to the arm. “Let me get Lissa to check on that for you.”

A blast of Fire to the chest. “Hey Maribelle, could you check on Robin?”

An arrow lodged in your leg. “Bear with me, we’ll get you to a healer in no time.”

You didn’t want a healer, and, quite frankly, would do better without wasting valuable time and resources of the troupe. Honestly.

It never went over well when you tried to sneak out of getting a quick fix up. You’d always have to use flimsy excuses.

“Ah, I got distracted.”

“I’ll be right there after I do this-”

“I completely forgot!”

And, in one of your most embarassing and stupid moments:

“Who are you again?”

(Thankfully, after a moment of staring at each other, you laughed and it was passed off as a bad joke. Never again.)

Despite all of this, you keep asking yourself: Why?

Healing magic was easy, it was convenient, and it was quick. Perfect for war, if not for any time that it could be used. Why did it bother you so much?

The answer always came to you on the verge of sleep, when the dark of night teased you with lingering memories and the ghost of a nightmare.

A blade through the chest, dangerously close to your heart. The skin pulsing, a dark feeling growing, cells and blood and skin working itself back through the hole all the while the blade found its way into your foe.

Again, an arrow to your ankle, being chased. You pulling it out, fear making your heart pump and mind race. The hole closing up with a sickening sound, dark magic lingering in its place.

Magic tearing and searing at your elbow with a thunderous crack. Bones breaking, flesh splitting. Fear fear fear. Life or death. The symbol on your hand glowing, the wound stitching itself back together, a haunting voice in the back of your head.

You can’t run forever. But you can’t die either. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

You hate being healed by magic. It makes you think of things you forgot. Things you didn’t want to remember.


End file.
